When Hermione Met Phil
by mariteri
Summary: The name pretty much says it all. A prequel to "Healing the Avengers". Rated T
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Avengers, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here we are! This is a prequel to the story "Healing the Avengers". Let me tell you it was a minute struggle to come up with a name for this one. When I came up with it, I figured that there was nothing clearer and to the point than the one I chose. Enjoy!**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter One**

It hadn't been her hair that caught his attention at first—though truth was it was a close second. Nor was it her ready smile or the way she was always going in or out of her apartment when he was too coming or going. No, it had been her apartment door and not for the usual reasons he would take note of—the woman didn't have a single lock, bolt, or security chain on it to be had! She didn't even engage the absolutely useless doorknob lock that was so easy to break into.

True, the building was being protected by S.H.I.E.L.D., but she didn't know that!

Did she?

That was the moment Agent Phil Coulson decided that he needed to keep a much closer eye on one Miss Hermione Granger.

...

Hermione went for her morning jog and ended up in front of a bakery thinking how lovely it would be to have a croissant and coffee. Closing her eyes, she deeply inhaled the smell of baking breads and whimpered.

"Oh why did I have to go on a diet now?" she muttered to herself, turning away from the bakery, she went on with her run never knowing that Phil was with her the entire time observing.

It wasn't until she was getting back to her own apartment, which was directly across from his that he approached her.

"You should have locks on your doors," he said quietly, unlocking his own door.

"Pardon?" She turned from her open doorway to him.

Turning towards her he took note of her deep amber eyes, nearly losing himself in them. Nearly, he thought, he most definitely lost himself within the orbs.

He looked away a moment to gather his thoughts and repeated, "I said that you should get some locks on your doors." When he looked back over to her, it was to find her looking at him puzzled. "As a form of protection."

She looked into her flat. "I don't own anything worth stealing."

He looked over her shoulder into her place and found it to be clean, loaded with books of all sorts with a homey feel that was lacking in so many homes now in this supposedly modern age.

"You don't own a television?" he asked her.

"Whatever for? I never watch it," she replied.

"You don't? Not even for current events?" he inquired.

She frowned thoughtfully at this as she stepped into her apartment. "But _are_ they current events?" Turning back to him, he saw a flash of wisdom within the depths of her stare that shouldn't be there in a woman so young. "I find that the current media is always a step or so behind the events making them less than…" And that's when she bent over, picking up a pair of men's pants off of her floor that had been hidden by her kitchen island. Her lips pursed together, as she growled, "Ronald." Taking a deep breath, she said, "You'll have to pardon me. I must make a phone call…" That's when she turned and looked at her bedroom. "Drat. It's in the room." Thinking it over, she turned back over to him as she walked towards him. "Uh, do you have a phone I can borrow? Preferably a land line?"

"Yes, come on over," he said, moving out of her way. "What's the matter?"

"An ex," she told him. "He more than likely got stinking drunk, convinced himself that I was the love of his life yet again, and came over here. Chances are he's waiting in my bed naked." Heat bloomed through her face, telling her that she was more than likely blushing. "I haven't a clue as to why, seeing as we've…Never mind. Where is that phone again?"

"Right this way," he murmured, letting her into his apartment.

The simple clean place was utterly generic if one could overlook the small things—such as the small groupings of pictures here and there, the big band era vinyl record collection he had near a modern looking very portable record player/stereo, and what could only be called a tiny alter to Captain America in one corner of the room. He was a nomad, she reasoned, and this was but one stop on his journey.

He picked up the handset and held it out to her.

"It's a long distance call, will that be okay? I'll be able to pay you back," she assured him.

"It's not a problem," he said and watched as she dialed. "Who are you calling?"

"Harry," she told him. "My best friend and someone who can rope in Ron…" She muttered something that sounded like, "Hopefully." Hermione worried her lower lip, waiting for the person on the other end to answer.

"Potter speaking," he said crisply.

"Harry, it's me," she told him.

"Whose telephone are you using?" he demanded.

"It doesn't matter. You have to come over here to New York," she said. "Ronald is in my bed."

"Drunk and naked?" he asked, laughing. "Again?"

"I cannot confirm or deny as I didn't want to see him in his altogether yet again," she muttered.

"How do you know he's naked?" he asked, still sniggering.

"This is Ronald Weasley we're speaking of, Harry. He made a mess of my flat from the kitchen more than likely into my bedroom," she replied. "Does that tell you enough? Or should I call Ginny and demand that Molly and Arthur fetch him?"

"Ouch!" Harry muttered. "This diet has made you an angry woman, Hermione. Are you sure it's in your best interest to…"

"Harry James Potter, you either get him from my flat or so help you I'll find a way for Luna to lecture you for an hour on the topic of her choice!"

"I'll call Fred and George!"

Hermione hung up the phone after telling him the apartment she was waiting in, looking over to the man that had let her use his phone and smiled a bit sheepishly. "Thank you for that."

"Do you need a place to wait for him?" Looking at his watch, he said, "That was the international code for England you dialed if I don't miss my guess. So it might take hours for him to get here."

"He said he'd call Fred and George, Ron's brothers. They're currently opening up a new shop here in New York. So it won't take long…" Two tall red heads popped their heads into the apartment.

"Hermione!" chimed one of them. "Heard you're still on that diet."

"You look fine…" the other said.

"But then again, you always look fine," the first finished.

"Go get your brother out of my bedroom," she ordered them. "Now! Or I'm calling your mother!" This had them both flinching at that even as she pointed the way to her own apartment.

Once they were inside her flat, she shut Phil's door with the feeling that she should have said something pithy. All she could really hope for was that there wouldn't be any explosions she would have to explain away. Absently she put a silencing spell on the apartment, as she turned to the man there.

"You know this seems so awkward seeing as I'm in your flat and used your telephone, but my name is Hermione Granger," she introduced herself, holding out her hand to him.

"Phil Coulson," he introduced himself as well, going over to her and shaking her hand. "You have a nice grip."

"Thank you," she murmured with a smile. "So do you."

**TBC…**

**…**

**There you go! The first chapter is up. Loved it? Hated it? Mildly interested in more? Please review to let me know. Thanks for reading and have an exquisite day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Avengers, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here we are at the next chapter. Thanks for taking the time to read my story. Your time is valuable and I appreciate you spending it reading my story. Enjoy!**

**Please read and review**

**…**

**Chapter Two**

Hermione didn't have a clue why she had said yes to substituting for the business math professor. Certainly she knew her numbers and calculations were nothing new to her, but teaching? What had she been thinking? She was a healer, not a mathematician! What was worse, she was a healer late for the class in question.

She rushed into the classroom, which was a large forum of a lecture hall packed to capacity. Shite, she thought and she was nearly sure she breathed out loud at the sight of so many people being there. Pulling in the fear, she went to the head of the classroom. Putting her things down, she looked around at the people who were now settling down into their seats.

She tried several times to get them to quiet down, but apparently they were far too into whatever conversations they were having to care. When that didn't work, she used what Harry called her, 'don't fuck with Granger' voice. "Oi! This is a college math class, not a gossip session! Shut up and sit down!" They all rushed to do as ordered. "Thank you. I am Dr. Granger, I will be substituting for Dr. Matthews while he's out due to health problems." And that's when she saw Phil near the back of the classroom watching her intently. Breaking eye contact with him, she looked out to the rest of the students and began her lecture.

At the end of the class, the students applauded and began to scatter and leave. Hermione was in the middle of packing away her lecture notes when she had the feeling she was being watched more closely again.

"Hello, Mr. Coulson," she said, looking up to find him standing closer than she had expected. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Believe it or not, I'm a student," he told her. "I'm getting my master's in business administration. It's for a job promotion."

Smiling she said, "Good for you."

"So you're a teacher?"

This had her laughing and shaking her head no. "I'm doing this as a favor to Grant—Dr. Matthews. He was rushed into emergency surgery last night and there was no way for any of his grad students to be available at such short notice. Chances are one of them will be teaching you guys next week."

"That's a shame. I found your lecture style to be vastly entertaining," he told her. "So what are you doing going to school here?"

"I'm attaining my second doctorate," she replied. "My first one was in general medicine and this one is in cellular human biology."

Frowning, he asked, "Just how old are you?"

Grinning, she said rather cheekily, "It's rude to ask a woman her age."

"It's just that you look so young," he told her.

"I am gifted with excellent genes and what has been told to me is an intelligence that is beyond par." She walked closer to him. "I'm thinking about doing a study about healing in connection with genetics. Should prove interesting. Perhaps I should get a doctorate in genetics as well? That's something to think about."

"Why get so many doctorates?" he inquired.

Thinking it over, she said, "Tell you what. If you take me out for a tea, I'll be more than happy to go into mind numbing detail if it's your wish to hear it."

"Only if you include what happened to Ron," he replied. "I must admit I've been curious as to what happened to him."

"If you insist," she said, stopping still when he offered her his arm to loop hers through. Looking back up to his eyes, wonder shining on her face as she told him, "I do believe you're the first gentleman I've made the acquaintance of in a very long time."

"Is that a good thing?" he asked her.

"In this day and age? That's a miracle," she replied, making him smile shyly.

...

They ended up going to a small café near the campus that only had a few patrons along with a staff of two. They sat down at a table in the back with Phil taking note that she made it a point of sitting with her back against the wall. She absently stirred the hot beverage in front of her, enjoying the scent of the earl gray as she did so.

"So?" he started. "What happened to Ron?"

"His twin brothers are notorious tricksters. They found him past out drunk in my bed as naked as the day he was born. They decided that it would be for the best that Ron learned a lesson once and for all. They got him out of my flat, they drove him over to this pub that has a gay male review, and of course they're filming all of this. They dressed him up in drag with makeup and the works. They made fast friends with a few of the she-males there whom helped them out the next day by being in the bed with him when he woke up hungover and horrified. Fred and George told him that if he came over to bother me again, their mum would be shown the tape." She was smirking as she sipped on her tea. "Needless to say I don't think I'll be hearing from him again anytime soon."

"If you had locks on your door, he couldn't have gotten in," he told her.

"If a person really wants admittance into a building, flat, or locked room, not even the best of locks will prevent it from happening," she told him. "They will get in. It's only a matter of time and how." When he just stared at her, she added, "I've had this exact conversation with Harry. Can you tell?"

Nodding he murmured, "Tell me about yourself."

"My name is Hermione Jean Granger, I was born in London, England, and my parents were dentists. And you?"

"My name is Phillip 'Phil' Coulson, I was born in Chicago, Illinois, and my father was a welder and my mom was a housewife." He sipped on his coffee. "So why do you feel the need for all the doctorates? Don't you think one is more than enough?"

Sipping on her tea she thought over what to say. It wasn't as if she could tell him that she was attempting to find what Harry referred to as safety from the outside world in the ivory tower of academia. The war had taken a lot more out of her than she was willing to admit—even to herself. What she had wanted most was a sense of security and belonging. Unfortunately she had yet to come close to doing so.

"A professor at the boarding school I attended in Scotland referred to me as a 'Bossy Know It All'. I suppose I still feel the need to learn all I can to achieve what I want."

"And what's that?"

"The healing of the human body in an expedient manner," she told him. "As it stands now, the human body as a tool is, in my opinion, limited by what we don't know about it. Yes, we know that if pushed, it can become bigger and better than before. But what if we were able to heal a person within hours instead of days. Minutes instead of hours. We are capable of doing that, but we are also limited by ignorance and an unwillingness to look to what exists beyond now. Whether it's out of fear because the medical community believes the future lies with mutants or just general laziness because they think we've reached the pinnacle of our evolution, people have given up the research."

"Impressive," Phil said with a nod. "And you want to be the healer that does what is now considered the impossible?"

"The improbable," she corrected with a teasing grin. "When I set my eyes towards impossibilities, I'll let you know."

**TBC…**

**…**

**And that's another chapter finished. Thank you for taking the time to read, review, not to mention follow/favorite. I appreciate it all. Have a picturesque day, everyone!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Avengers, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Another day, another chapter! Enjoy.**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter Three**

On any normal day, Phil would have eaten his lunch with all due expediency and been right back to work within a half an hour or less. Yet there he was sitting at the lunchroom table thinking about the one person that he shouldn't be thinking about when he was at work.

"What's up with you?" He blinked at the newcomer to the table. Clint just rolled his eyes and looked over to the woman joining them. "He didn't even know I was here I tell you. I could have drawn on his face and he wouldn't have had a clue."

Natasha slipped into the chair Clint had pulled out for her, studying the intelligence man in front of her. She had known him for quite some time and this—this had the look of something she had never seen from him before.

"He's met a woman," Natasha said, turning to Clint. "I do believe Agent Coulson is smitten."

"What? I-I am not smitten!" he declared.

"I do believe our fellow agent is protesting too much," Clint teased.

"Tell us about her," Natasha said to Phil. "There must be something that…"

"She's incredibly smart," he told them. "She is earning her second doctorate and is thinking about going for more. She doesn't watch television. Doesn't even own one to watch the news. And get this—she doesn't even have a single lock on her door! I can't believe that a woman that smart could do something that thoughtless."

"Really? And where does this woman live?" Clint asked.

"Across the hall from me at the Complex," he said still so deep in thought that he didn't notice how this caught the attention of both assassins.

"She has an apartment in one of the most exclusive buildings in the world?" the friendly archer inquired. "She's either really rich or really connected…"

"Or both," Natasha said casually. "So no locks at all?"

"She doesn't even use the useless lock on the door knob," he muttered. "Says that if a person wanted in badly enough that they would get in regardless of how many locks were on the door."

Nodding slowly, Natasha said, "Logical, but not wise."

"Exactly," Coulson told her. "And apparently I'm not the only one that has lectured her on this. So has Harry James Potter, whomever the hell he is." Thinking it over, he mumbled, "I wonder if he's her boyfriend…"

"Oh yeah, he has it bad," Clint said.

"So what does this woman look like?" the redhead asked.

"She's petite, around five feet four inches tall, and approximately one hundred pounds." He frowned. "She's on a diet for some reason. I have to ask her why. If anything, she's too thin. She has wild brown hair that goes just below her shoulders and has these eyes that go from the color of light amber to deep chocolate that are so easy to get lost in when I'm looking into them."

"And yet he's not smitten," Clint said dryly, gaining a glare from Phil.

"She's young," he told them. "Far too young to think of her in that fashion." He stood up and threw away his trash. "I have to get back to work. See you guys later."

The two of them sat there for a time before Clint said, "Want to check her out, Tasha?"

"It would be for the best," she replied, getting up. "I'll find out her full name from the apartment contract while you scope out the woman on sight."

"Deal."

...

Hermione couldn't escape the feeling that she was being watched. She kept looking out of the window of the office she was in, but if anything it intensified. Finally she gave up trying to work and ended up grabbing up her landline receiver.

"Hermione, you really have to stop calling me so often. Ginny's going to start thinking that you think of me…"

"Are you having people watching me again," she cut off his joke. "Well?"

There was silence on the other end followed by, "No, why?"

"I…I don't know," she stammered. "I-I just get this feeling someone is watching me again." Worrying her thumbnail, she let out a long sigh. "Can you visit? I think I need a break."

"You know I can," he assured her. "Are you still on that diet?"

Rolling her eyes, she told him, "I'm trying to gain weight in a healthy way for all the good it is doing." She took a deep breath. "I so need an espresso!"

Chuckling he told her, "I'll bring one with me. A double?"

She rested her head onto her arms "Yes, please."

"Should I bring Ginny?"

"Why not?" she mumbled into the receiver. "And if she's holding a croissant to go with the coffee, I just may have to kiss her."

That gained her a spurt of laughter coming from her friend. "I'll warn her."

Meanwhile across the quad, Clint pulled out his cellphone.

"Hello, Clint. What's up?" Phil answered quietly.

"Do you want to make your young Hermione's day?" he inquired. "Show up to this office…" He gave him the building and room number. "With a double espresso and a croissant."

"What are…" He was hushed and ended up muttering, "What are you doing spying on her?!"

"Do you or do you not want to be the one that makes her day?"

"Alright, alright!" He left wherever he was at. "I'll do it, but I better be getting some answers from you later."

Fifteen minutes later he was walking into the office with a bag and a double cupped hot beverage to find Hermione face down at the desk. Frowning he went over and quietly placed the coffee within reach.

"Would you like some sugar and cream to go with that?" he asked.

Her head popped up, looking at him in shock and straight over to the cup in front of her. "Espresso?"

"A double," he assured her.

"For me?" she asked him.

"Yes, for you," he told her.

She sipped on it, letting out a pleasure filled sigh. Looking at the white bag within his hands. "What's that?"

"Croissant." He placed it on the desk. "For you."

Looking to it and back over to him, she asked, "Are you a mind reader?" She opened up the bag and inhaled deeply, smiling as she did so.

"No, I'm no mind reader," he said, trying to come up with an explanation as to what he was doing there with exactly what she seemed to need. "I, uh, I…"

"I don't care," she told him, cutting him off. "I really don't care." She got up, went over to him and hugged him. "Thank you so much. I can't even tell you how badly I needed this."

His arms went around her reluctantly. "No problem." She felt so fragile in his arms and he found himself asking, "Why are you on a diet?" You can't be more than a hundred and five pounds soaking wet."

She took a deep breath and looked up into his blue eyes. "I had a rough year last year." Pulling away from him, she went to sit down again. "I've been trying to come up with a way to gain weight healthily, but unfortunately if anything, I'm losing more which only makes it worse." She opened the bag and pulled out the bread. "That isn't to say I had an eating disorder or the like. No, that isn't it at all. Want some?" She offered half of it to him.

"No thanks," he said, sitting down in the chair he had moved. "What happened?"

Just as she was about to tell him, Harry and Ginny came through her office door with coffee and bagged pastries in hand. They blinked at Phil in shock even as Hermione smiled at them both.

"Hey, come on in! The more the merrier," Hermione said. "Phil, these two are my best friends Harry Potter and his girlfriend Ginny Weasley." She looked to them. "This is my neighbor Phil Coulson. He was the man that helped me out by allowing me to use his telephone the other day when Ron showed up."

Frowning Ginny said, "Ron was in your bed naked again?" Rolling her eyes. "You've got to be kidding me! I bet this has something to do with Lavender giving him that ultimatum. 'Marry me or else' scares the best of men, let alone my brother." She looked over to Phil. "Lovely to make your acquaintance, Mr. Coulson." She elbowed Harry. "Say hello, darling, least he think you haven't any manners to be had."

"Hello, nice to meet you," he said tightly, shooting a glare to Ginny.

"Thanks. Nice to meet you too." He got up. "I have to get going." He looked over to Hermione. "We'll talk later?"

Smiling she said, "Definitely. Thank you for the company and the gifts. You're my hero."

He only smiled and took his leave.

**TBC…**

**…**

**And there you have it. Another chapter is at the sunset of its life. I hope you enjoyed it. Please if you could take the time to send me feedback in the form of a review, it would be much appreciated. Thanks again and have yourselves a winsome day.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Avengers, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Hello, one and all! Here we are again. Another chapter is coming out at you! Enjoy.**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter Four**

As soon as Phil was gone, Ginny squealed like a girl even as Harry was demanding how the other man knew she wanted coffee and pastries.

"I want details!" Ginny demanded even as Harry was pulling chairs next to Hermione's desk with a scowl on his face.

"As do I, but for a completely different reason," he said, his voice hard. "How did he know that you wanted an espresso and a croissant?"

"I don't care," she replied, taking another sip of the strong brew. "I have two double espressos and yummy croissants waiting for me and none of them are getting any younger! Hand them over."

"So is this the death null of the diet?" Harry asked, putting the coffee and bag on her desk.

Looking sad, she said, "I lost another five pounds. So yes it is."

"And you're going to go on the change of diet I came up with?" Ginny asked her. "Hermione, my specialty is sports medicine. I know what you should eat to gain weight healthily! When are you going to listen?"

"Apparently now," she muttered, and stuffed a piece of the bread into her slightly downturned mouth.

...

Across the quad, Phil went over to where Clint was currently watching Hermione chattering away with Ginny and Harry. He looked over to her, seeing the sadness and acceptance, of what he didn't know, but it didn't stop him from being curious.

"She's trying to gain weight," Clint said to his friend and comrade. "But she's lost weight instead and now she's given up trying her way." He put down the small binoculars and looked over to Phil. "She's cute. Not what anyone would call stunning, but she has that smile." His lips tipped up. "And a wicked sense of humor. She just called that Harry guy her father rather sarcastically."

"You have her office bugged?" he nearly snarled. "Why?!"

"Coulson, you know as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. that everyone that comes close to their highly placed agents need to be vetted. That includes the doc there in that office and you damn well know it. The way Tasha and I thought you'd rather us to do it than let's say Hill or, heaven help you both, Fury."

Rubbing his temples he said, "Fine. Okay. I get it." Quiet for a moment he asked, "What did you find out?"

"You're not going to believe it," he told him. "Natasha made some calls, as she was able to find out nothing via the computer." He pulled out an electronic tablet and handed it over to him. "She documented everything she was able to find out and there it is."

Part of him didn't want to do this, but it was curiosity that had him opening up the file. What was there was short and to the point. Hermione Jean Granger, date of birth...

"She's nineteen?" he breathed looking over to the window of the office to see her arguing with Harry. "She's so damn young."

"Trust me. That isn't the most alarming information. Keep reading," Clint told him.

He kept reading as he was told and stopped when he saw that her parents had been murdered. "Her parents…"

"I know. Keep reading."

"Can't you just point out…" and that's when he was stopped cold by one word. "Witch?" He looked up at Clint. "She's a witch?"

"She's a wand carrying, broom riding, cauldron stirring witch." Clint studied his face, as Phil kept reading was little was there about the woman that lived across the hall from him. "Now what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he breathed. "I need to talk to her."

Clint nodded. "Good place to start."

...

Hermione stared at the patients in the new ward of the hospital, terror eating at her even as she kept just watching them. Grabbing the phone receiver on the wall, she dialed so that she got an outside line and made her phone call.

"Potter speaking." His tone sounded clipped, as if he were in the middle of something really important.

"This is Hermione," she told him. "We have dementors here in New York."

He cursed. "How many victims?"

"At last count it was fifty," she told him. "I think there's a new nest here. I tried to tell the American Ministry, but they say it's your problem."

"Yes, the American Ministry of Magic, an ever so helpful group," he muttered. "I only just received a missive from them. They neglected to inform us where in the United States the nest was. Thanks for the heads up. Where are we going to need to go?"

"It's summer here," she told him. "We're currently having a heat wave in the greater New York area and yet in a very small town just east of Buffalo, New York they are experiencing a cold snap."

"We're on our way," he told her. "I'll meet you at your place in half an hour?"

"See you there."

Hermione was in the middle of getting her things, when there was a knocking on the door. She looked up to see one of the last people she would have expected and from the look on his face, he hadn't been expecting her either.

"Phil," she murmured, standing up. "Uh, what…"

"I'm Agent Phil Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D.," he told her in a tight voice. "I am here in regards to the new patients that were admitted. We need to know if this is a threat to national and/or world security."

She nodded, not liking the coolness coming from him. "Of course, but first things first. I need to know your clearance level."

He gave her a brittle smile and pulled out his badge, handing it over to her. She called over to Harry. "What?! I'm trying to get over there…"

"I know," she snapped. "I need a check on clearance."

Sighing heavily, he muttered, "Go on."

She told him the badge number, name, and security number. Waiting for a response, Hermione watched as Phil's eyes burrowed into her.

"You have the green light to tell him. Hey, isn't this the same Phil Coulson that you…"

"Yeah, see you when you get here, bye!" And she hung up on him. "Merlin that man has the worst timing." She held out his badge out to him. "They are victims of what are called dementors. At one time they used to be the prison guards of a place called Azkaban Prison." She stood up and walked past him, as she said, "Follow me." She took him straight over to one of the patients, a woman in her twenties. "The dementors were not only used as guards, but as an ultimate form of punishment. It's called the Dementor's Kiss. Basically what happens is that the prisoner's soul is sucked out of them by their mouth…" She motioned to what looked like frostbite on the lips. "They became soulless beings, still alive, but not."

"So what's out there are these dementors?" Phil asked.

She nodded. "They left the prison approximately three to four years ago. The British Ministry of Magic has been doing its best to hunt them down, but given everything going on…" Hermione scrapped her hair out of her face. "What with so much to rebuild, I can't see them getting them all any time soon. They were doing well to get the ones still in England and Scotland."

"What do they look like?" he inquired.

"It wouldn't matter what I told you," she said. "Non-magicals can't see them." She turned to face him. "You feel freezing cold, the windows nearby will frost over for no reason, and you will re-live your worst memories. That's how you'll know they're there." His blue eyes went hard. "They are nightmares and pain and everything a living terror can be. And they look just as bad as you may imagine. Bullets can't kill them, nothing you can think of will." She looked at the people lying there in the ward. "I made a phone call. The Ministry of Magic here in the States want nothing to do with something they think belongs to the people who made the mess in the first place…"

"You…"

"I had nothing to do with those monsters!" she snapped. "I wasn't even born yet." She took a calming breath, saying, "They were fools to think that they could create something of this sort and believe that they would be able to control them." Perplexed by this she asked honestly, "Who does that?"

Seeing her honest confusion he softened a bit as he answered, "I don't know."

"It's a mess," she told him. "The Ministry of Magic in England is sending people over as we speak and they'll take care of it."

"If you can't use guns, what do you use?" he asked.

She pulled out her wand and murmured, "_Expecto Patronum_."

A ghostly white otter came out of her wand and swam about in the air as if it were a river. It went spinning and floating around Phil and finally vanished.

"That's what's going to kill them?"

"Yes." He turned on his heel to leave. "Where are you going?"

"To get help, because I seriously doubt a small ghost otter is going to do the job."

**TBC…**

**…**

**And another chapter has come to a close. Thanks for taking your time to read this. You're all excellent people. Take care and have a glorious day.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Avengers, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Hello! Thank you to everyone that's taken the time to read, review, and follow/favorite. Enjoy!**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter Five**

Harry was still laughing as they got out of the car. She had told him the story of what had happened with Phil. Hermione rolled her eyes, as she admitted that she didn't think her patronus was all that intimidating, but at least he should have shown it a small bit of respect.

"He doesn't know," Harry told her. "Give him a break…" Just then there was the sound of gunfire in the warehouse, making them both go still.

"Too impetuous!" Harry muttered as he pulled out his wand, as did Hermione next to him.

They rushed in and soon enough saw that the agents were in far more trouble than they had even expected.

"This is the nest!" she muttered to Harry, who could only nod.

Looking to her, Harry and she muttered a curse before setting out their patronesses. They charged into battle straight away, making the agents go still at the sight. Hermione's otter swam around Phil, looking up at what the man couldn't see. To save these people it would take more than this, she even knew as much. There were close to fifty dementors up in the rafters.

Harry's stag took care of at least fifteen at one go, but with just the two of them there fighting the black robed terrors there would be more down before too long. It was with a look of complete determination that her otter swam to the middle of the warehouse and erupted into that of a giant screaming eagle.

"Hermione," Harry breathed in awe, not having seen the eagle since the year before during the final battle at the school.

The eagle flew straight up into the nest and exploded into a bright flash of light that had them all ducking for cover. Everyone that is except for Hermione, who was still standing when the light faded. When Harry stood and looked over to her, it was to find her watching the non-magicals recovering from the attack as ash of what was once dementors fell like snow.

"Where is all this ash coming from?" someone asked.

Harry said her name two or three times, but didn't answer him. "Dammit, Hermione!" She began to crumple just as Phil got to her side, catching her.

"What happened to her?" he demanded.

"She more than likely overextended her magic," Harry muttered, looking over to him. "But she'd be able to tell you better than I could, as I'm not a doctor."

Phil scooped Hermione up and snapped out orders to evacuate. Turning to Harry, he said, "Are you coming along for this?"

"I'm not leaving until I know she's okay," he told him, and followed him out.

"Then follow me," he told the younger man and walked briskly out of the warehouse.

...

Hermione woke up slowly to find Phil and Harry silently waiting for her to wake. She tried to move, but found that her body felt as if a truck had hit it. She let out a soft moan, calling the attention of the two waiting for her to wake.

" 'Mione?" Harry said, sounding as if he were asking a whole field of questions with that one word.

"I'm fine…" She moved, flinching as she did so. "Sort of." Looking over to Phil, she asked, "Did everyone get out safely?"

"Everyone did, but a few are showing some signs of shock," he told her.

"Give them chocolate." He looked from her over to Harry, who was laughing. "What?"

"I thought he was joking when he said that," he replied, gaining him a grin from Hermione.

"I thought the very same when a former professor was handing us big chunks of chocolate after our first encounter with a dementor," she said. "I can't even tell you just how upset my parents were when I told them that. And it wasn't even due to the soul sucking creatures, but because they had done everything in their power to keep me away from consuming sugar and candy."

It was Harry who snorted and said sarcastically, "The horrors of tooth decay to a dentist cannot be measured. Or at least that was their lecture to me that one time they caught me eating that candy."

Hermione could only nod to this.

"What happened?" Phil asked her. "Why did you pass out?"

She tried to think of what happened. "I've only done that once before. It's like going into turbo is the best explanation I can think of. Certainly I was fine afterwards, but the fuel was spent."

Phil relaxed at those words, nodding as he did so.

"My boss, Director Fury would like to debrief both of you in this matter," he said. "I'll go get him now." He stood up and was there for a time before leaning over and kissing her temple lightly. "Thank you for saving our lives."

Too stunned to say anything, she watched as he walked out of the room. It wasn't until Harry chuckled that she was able to say a word.

"I think I'll have to marry him."

"Why?" Harry asked puzzled.

Hermione only blushed and said, "Uh, you don't want to know."

The tall rather imposing man stepped into the room, looking them both over as if he could see into their very minds. This was something that Hermione wouldn't put past him, but remained relax as he checked them both out. Hermione made no attempt to hide the fact that she too was looking him over as well. He was a warrior—that much was clear. It was hard to miss considering the man clearly had one of his eyes taken violently if the scars around it were any indication.

"I spoke to Kingsley Shacklebolt," he said as he slid into the chair next to Harry. "He told me that you two were the best people he knew of."

This only had Harry rolling his eyes. Hermione, on the other hand, only waited to see what the man had to say next.

"That being said, he wondered why it was you two that dealt with this pack of dementors," he said just as casually as before, but looked like he was fishing for something more.

"The American Ministry of Magic doesn't want to deal with things that they don't consider their mess," Harry told him. "I got the phone call from them as well as Hermione about the victims and I didn't have time to get a hold of Kingsley before coming over to deal with the dementors. Should I have? Yes. Did I mess up? Again, yes. I wouldn't be shocked if I get a reprimand in my records over this. But I would rather deal with that than have to think of more blood being on my hands…"

"Harry!" Hermione snapped. "You have no one's blood on your hands."

"Yeah, I keep telling myself that. One of these days, I'll believe it." He stood up. "I have to get back to England. Was there anything else you wanted to know before I left?"

"Officially? No, I haven't another word to ask you," he said, standing up. "Unofficially, I have to say I don't think you have much more than a hand slapping coming your way for what you did." He got up and shook Harry's hand. "Whatever your bosses may think, you saved lives. If you need a job, call me."

"Thank you, sir," he said. "Hermione, I'll call you."

**TBC…**

**And there's another chapter finished! Review to let me know what you think of it. Thanks for reading and have a blatantly glorious day.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Avengers, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here we are nearly at the end. Thank you so much for all of your support. I appreciate you all taking the time to do so. You're all excellent individuals. May good Karma shine on you all. Enjoy the new chapter!**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Chapter Six**

She nodded to this and watched as he took his leave. Hermione looked over to Fury who was watching her intently.

"Kingsley told me that you aren't even in the program to become an auror, whatever that is."

She nodded. "True, I'm a healer. Harry called me and told me that he needed help as his partner couldn't make the trip."

"And of course you jumped at the chance," he drawled.

"He's my brother in every way but blood," she told him. "There isn't much I wouldn't do for him."

He studied her for a time before saying, "Coulson tells me that you want to be the best healer there is."

She thought over the words he used and said, "I didn't use those words, but that's close enough."

"I need the best healer in the world." Leaning forward he said, "I have a proposition for you."

After hearing him out, she said, "You want to give me a job, in other words?"

"Most definitely."

Worrying her lower lip, she said, "What if I were to tell you that I want to court and marry Phil Coulson?"

He snorted with humor at this. "I'd wish you luck. The man lives the job."

She nodded slowly. "I'll take the job on the conditions that I get free rein over the med-bay, I get to court and marry Coulson without interference, and I get to finish my education during my first five years of working for you—something S.H.I.E.L.D. will pay for."

He studied her a moment. "You meant what you said about Phil, didn't you?" He stood up and shook her hand. "You have yourself a deal."

...

Phil honestly didn't know what to make of what the director said to him as he left. It wasn't often that Nick Fury referred to anyone as a 'Poor bastard'. He went into the hospital room, sitting down next to Hermione who was watching him intently.

"He offered me a job," she told him.

"Really? As an agent?"

She shook her head no. "I'm not built to be one of those. I'm a healer. I'll leave being an agent to people like you. I'll just happen to be around to heal you once you get back to wherever it is that you get back to." That had him smiling. "I told Director Fury that I had every intention to court and marry you."

Blinking at her in a bit of shock, he asked, "You did? Why?"

"Because it's the truth and I didn't want him interfering in it."

He just stared at her a moment and asked, "Why me?"

Hermione tried to think of why and ended up blurting out, "You're a good man with an inner core of steel. You're the type of man that works hard and stands by what you believe in. You make me smile and laugh more in the time I've known you than I have in a very long time."

"You're only nineteen," he said sounding pained.

Clearing her throat, she confessed, "Yes, on paper I am nineteen years old."

Frowning he asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Pulling out her wand, she flicked it around as she said, "A hypothetical—What if I were to say that I used a device to manipulate time back when I was in school to the point where I might have added years to my life?"

"Did you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"How old are you really?"

"Twenty-three."

He stood up and moved closer to her, asking rather in a hard voice, "You added four years to your life?" She nodded. "Do many people know about this?" She shook her head no.

"No, not many people know about it, seeing as time turners aren't exactly legal." His eyes went wider. "It is a complicated story, but suffice it to say that yes, I was given it when I was fourteen by the headmaster of the school, and yes, I aged, but no not that many know of that last part of it all."

"Why tell me?" he inquired quietly.

She reached out and cupped his face. "I trust you."

Before Hermione knew what was happening, his mouth was on hers kissing her hungrily, as he ran his hands over her face, hair and shoulders. Hermione wasn't passive in this kiss. Phil's suit, which wasn't at its best at that moment was completely a mess after he pulled away from her.

"We're having a proper courtship," he muttered.

"Yes," she agreed, peppering kisses over his mouth and jaw.

"And we're getting married in a church."

She paused. "A church? I'm not that religious."

"You don't believe in God?"

"I believe in God. It is organized religion I have a beef with."

He thought that over. "Okay, but we're not getting married in Las Vegas."

"No, not in Las Vegas," she agreed. "And work has to remain work and private remains private."

"Yes." Hermione moved aside and he slipped into the bed with her, hugging her tightly. "We're not on the clock."

Tucking her face against his neck, she sighed, "Please don't take this as an insult, but I'm exhausted."

"None taken," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "Get some rest, sweetie."

Hermione smiled softly and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

**TBC…**

**…**

**Another chapter is complete and just one more to go. Thanks for being the lovely readers you are. Review, if you can to let me know what your thoughts are. Thanks for reading and have a kindhearted day.**


	7. Epilogue

**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Avengers, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here we are! The end of our travels. Enjoy.**

**Please read and review!**

**…**

**Epilogue**

**_Fifteen years later…_**

"So what exactly do you want a 3D printer for?" Agent Maria Hill inquired as she walked Hermione over to where Fury had wanted her.

"There has been enormous strides in printing the shells of ears using them," she told her, sounding excited as she told her. "Given my know how and skills I could imagine being able to replicate a working human kidney within the next three years."

Maria stopped and looked at her. "You're serious?" She nodded briskly, beaming as she did so.

"So I asked for the printer yet again," she told her friend. "I've been asking for one of them since they first came out, but I have to admit that when I first asked for it my scope was rather limited to artificial joints and indestructible phone covers." When Maria blinked at her, she muttered, "Do you have any clue the number of phones Phil has gone through? I'm just putting it out there that there's a need for such." This had Maria laughing. "So anyway, finally, Director Fury came back to me and said that if I go to this training room that he would think about giving me one, which was far more than he ever did before."

"Do you think this is wise?" Maria inquired of her.

She shrugged. "Probably not, seeing as Director Fury has frequently lied in the past to get what he wants." She paused in walking. "But it would be awesome to get that printer." Looking over to the woman next to her, she asked as they approached the training room door, "Should I be worried?"

Thinking it over, Maria said, "Keep alert."

That, Hermione thought, didn't bode well. Stepping into the room, she flinched as the door snapped shut behind her. Looking up to where director Fury was watching her.

"What do I do?" she asked him, not noticing the Avengers in the room with her.

"Walk from that side of the room to the other," he told her. "And then get back to the door again."

"That's it?" she asked him. "What's the catch?"

"That would be us, Doctor Hermione," Tony Stark pointed he and the others there out to her.

"Oh." She worried her lower lip, looking at all of them there. "Okay." Taking a step forward, she asked, "When does it start?"

"Now," Clint said, firing an arrow straight at her heart.

Spinning out of the way of the projectile, she ducked just in time to avoid being hit in the neck by Natasha. Hermione kept walking even as the Hulk stomped towards her. Using the moisture in the room, she made the metal floor slick with ice and watched as the big man didn't have the friction to stop himself with his weight and momentum, crashing against the far wall and sticking to it thanks to the sticking charm she placed on the wall. Tony came flying towards her in his suit only to have the engines go wild the moment he got within five feet of her and crash against the very same wall the Hulk was trying to pull away from with no success. Natasha went around the other way only to find that Hermione had but to pull out her wand and send a flock of paper birds after her. And no matter how many times she destroyed them, more came it seemed from the ashes. Hermione tapped the far wall only to have to avoid another arrow. This time though she split it in half along with every single other one he sent her way, as she kept going. Then it happened. She heard a whirling sound and stopped, as she didn't know what to make of it. Hermione turned in time to see Thor's hammer coming straight at her. Dropping to her knees, she caught it easily by the handle. Looking over the artistry covering it, she kept walking towards her goal of the exit.

She got to the door once again, admiring the hammer. Looking up at Thor, she said, "Your craftspeople should be very proud of their work, sir." She handed it to him with care. "It's pretty."

"My weapon isn't pretty!" he snapped.

"Do you think they'd take a commission? I've been racking my brain trying to think of something to get Harry and Ginny for their anniversary. I was thinking candle sticks."

The big Norse god only glared at her and walked away, never seeing her grin. Looking back into the room, it was to see most of them staring at her in shock. Steve Rodgers walked up to her, smiling.

"You did good, kid," he said to her.

"Thank you, sir." Frowning she asked, "Why didn't you take part in this?"

"Because I asked him not to." She looked over to Phil, walking over to her. "Thanks, Cap."

"No problem," he told him, but then looked over to Hermione. "They're still stuck on the wall."

"Oops!" She turned and released the Hulk and Iron Man, the birds chasing Natasha dropped to the ground, and that in turn freed up Clint who was doing everything in his power to kill the paper birds attacking his partner. She turned back around to find Nick Fury standing across from her glaring. "So do I get my 3D printer?"

Rolling his eye, he snapped, "Stark! You lost the bet. You owe her the best 3D printer on the market." He spun on his heel and left.

Jumping for joy, she hugged Phil, and kissed him soundly. Laughing he inquired, "Ready for lunch?"

"Yes," she murmured, taking his arm and walking away from the training room.

The Avengers stood there for a time, watching where she had walked off.

"She hardly did anything," Clint said, sounding a combination of sour and awed.

"She didn't have to," Natasha pointed out. "She wasn't doing more than she absolutely must in order to get the job done. I seriously doubt she would have done that much if not for this printer she wanted so badly."

"You know what that means, don't you?" Bruce asked them all, having them look at him in question.

"No, mean green, what does that mean?" Tony asked him.

"Thank God she's on our side," he told them, as he did his best to hold together what pants he had left.

**The End**

**…**

**And there you go. We're at the end of another journey. Thank you for coming along for the ride. As always, it's been a blast. Take care and until next we meet—Ádh mór (Irish).**


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